Crossing Over
by ScruffyGoddess
Summary: A super-uber-mega crossover with HP that will, by the end, include just about anyone you can imagine, in situations you’d rather not.
1. Through a Portal

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss, Harry Potter belongs to JK. 

Summary: A super-uber-mega crossover that will, by the end, include just about anyone you can imagine, in situations you'd rather not. Details are not important, and flames will be chortled over, then mocked publicly. 

Crossing Over

Chapter 1: Through a Portal

Buffy was walking around the streets of LA, looking for vampires to slay and thinking. Since the destruction of Sunnydale and the calling of all the mini-Slayers, there had been an extreme shortage of one activity and an overabundance of the other.

One of the main topics in Buffy's mind was that of Spike. Sure, she had told him she loved him, but what did that mean? She couldn't decide whether she had said it out of love or pity, or whether she had meant that she loved him for dying to save the world. That had been super of him.

Either way, it was certainly more boring with him dead. It didn't help that Dawn had jaunted off to England with Giles, both eager to begin the reconstruction of the Watcher's council. Angel was boring, too, all involved with his new demonic law firm. He would come out of CEO mode for long enough to make random passes at her, but Buffy was so over that. 

And then there were all the new Slayers running around, but this didn't excite Buffy either. Been there, done that. She had decided early on to leave the training and everything to Faith. After all, if you couldn't trust a former homicidal maniac to shape the tender young minds of girls suddenly endowed with power beyond their wildest imaginings, who could you trust? 

Suddenly, Buffy's attention was grabbed by shadows moving through a conveniently placed cemetery. She crossed the street and paused at the gates, searching for potential lovers… err... vampires. Instead she saw an everyday, run-of-the mill sorcerer waving his arms about and chanting. He looked harmless enough, but a cloaked man speaking Latin in the middle of a cemetery was usually not a good thing. Plus, Buffy was itching for a fight.

She began to make her way stealthily towards him, but being out of practice her stealth just wasn't what it used to be. She tripped on a broken headstone and fell noisily onto the ground. 

"Damn it," she swore. 

When she got up, the sorcerer had gone. In his place was a big, glowing portal, and Buffy could only assume the guy had already gone through. She approached the portal.

"Hmm… glowy," said Buffy. Her experience with portals had not been good up to this point, so everything in her was screaming to just leave. She felt that she shouldn't leave a big random portal sitting in the middle of LA, though.

"Hello?" called Buffy into the portal. There was no answer. She picked up a clod of dirt and chucked it in. Waited a minute. Nothing.

Buffy looked around the cemetery for anything she could use to either cordon off the portal, or maybe something to make a sign with.

__

Unknown portal, enter at your own risk, had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, there was nothing to write on or with in sight.

Buffy sighed. Her experience had also taught her that the best way to close a portal was for someone to go through it. Maybe she could pitch in a random passer-by…

No, this was a job for the Slayer, decided Buffy. Besides, she was really, really bored. Quickly checking to make sure she had a few weapons on her, she stepped up to the portal and walked in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry entered the Great Hall and quickly joined his friends, Ron and Hermione, at the Gryffindor table to eat his lunch. As he loaded his plate with steak and kidney pie, he happened to glance up in the direction of the Slytherin table. His eyes immediately locked with the icy blue eyes of Draco Malfoy, git extrordinaire. 

As Harry watched Draco scowl and make rude gestures he thought, _I know a few ways I could wipe that smirk off your face, Draco. One involves my tongue._ Harry choked on his pie. _Where the bloody hell did that come from? I'm not gay! I've never once shown any indication that I could be gay!_

After a panic attack and spell by Hermione to clear his breathing passages, Harry decided to never look Draco in the face again. Ever. 

"So Harry, how do you think we'll do this year in quidditch? I think we've got a chance for the cup again!" Ron asked Harry excitedly.

"Absolutely! I can't wait to get on my broom to practice!" 

It was only the first week of classes at Hogwarts, and the Gryffindor quidditch team hadn't set up a practice schedule yet. 

"I've been shining up my Firebolt," continued Harry, "She'll be in good shape for the games." 

Harry thought of all the polish he'd put on the shaft of the broom. Rubbing it up and down, back and forth. _Hmm… the shape of a broom handle is awfully similar to..._

Suddenly there was a loud plop, and a chunk of what appeared to be dirt landed in the middle of Harry's plate. Automatically, everyone at the Gryffindor table shielded their own plates and looked up, expecting to see a laughing Peeves.

Instead they saw that the sky ceiling had become overcast, and a small glowing circle of light was getting bigger and bigger. The rest of the room quickly noticed and turned to watch also, talking excitedly amongst themselves. 

Harry shielded his eyes and continued to stare at the portal. Next to him, Ron shoveled another load of potatoes into his mouth.

"A bit boring, isn't it," commented Ron after swallowing.

At that moment a body plummeted out of the portal. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was sitting at ground zero.

"Everybody, move!" he yelled, pushing away from the table. Ron grabbed his plate and followed suit, and then all the rest of the table. The body landed directly on top of Harry's pie.

A silence fell over the Great Hall. Dumbledore, moving quite quickly for an old man, appeared by Harry's side. Even he seemed a bit at a loss.

The body on the table moaned and sat up, revealing that it was in fact a girl in her twenties. As she shifted to get off the table, her hand went into the squished mass that used to be Harry's dinner.

Looking at the goo that covered her hands and much of her clothing, she frowned.

"What the hell is this?" demanded the girl.

Harry shifted nervously.

"Um… steak and kidney pie," he said.

She brought her hand up to her nose and sniffed it. Then she just barely licked her finger.

"Hmm… yummy." 


	2. The LongLost Relative

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss, Harry Potter belongs to JK. 

Further Summary: So, it seems that not everyone is understanding the premise of this story. To clarify, this is a parody of the buckets and buckets of crossover fanfiction out there, as well as some of the more ridiculous aspects of the show and books themselves. Please remember that we're writing this as loyal fans and are writers of crossovers and other fanfiction ourselves.

Thanks to everyone that reviewed! 

Crossing Over

Chapter Two: The Long-Lost Relative

Willow looked up at the large apartment building looming above her. She couldn't believe that her parents had moved to Toronto without telling her. Sure, she'd been busy, and living at Buffy's, never calling or stopping by, but still! And sure, she didn't warn her parents about the evil in Sunnydale, or even check to make sure they'd left before it blew up. So what if they never met Tara, and didn't even know she was a lesbian. _Still, they should've told me they were leaving the country! Um, unlike the time I left for England and never told them,_ thought Willow, shrugging as she headed up to the apartment.

Her father opened the door when she knocked and gestured for her to sit in the living room.

"Hi guys," she began nervously, when no one else made a move to talk. "Nice place you have here. So… Canada, huh? It's a nice country. Beavers, hockey, maple syrup… go, Canada! They came up with peacekeepers you know, and a Canadian wrote the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights! But really, I think it's the beavers that make Canada… um… great." Willow ended her babble with a blush spreading across her face. _Why must I always babble?_

Sheila Rosenburg cleared her throat and sat down across the room from Willow. 

"Willow, there's a reason we wanted you to come here. We need to talk to you about something," she finished, with a look at her husband who continued for her.

"The easiest way to do this is to be blunt. You're adopted Willow."

Willow blinked, but before she could respond her mother silenced her.

"There's more. Your father and I, we both grew up in England," suddenly her accent miraculously changed to British, "and we were both born to wizards. Neither of us were able to do any magic though, and that made us outcasts in our town." 

Sheila continued to tell Willow about the wizarding communities in England, and around the globe.

Willow blinked again, and scratched her head. "So—" 

She was once again interrupted by her mother.

"We wanted to have a child, Willow, but were afraid it'd be another squib. So we..." 

"We bought you on the Wizarding black market," Ira broke in. "We wanted so desperately to have a witch or wizard. So we could show all those fools at home. But look at the way you turned out," he said with tinge of disgust, "when you didn't get your letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we were so disappointed in you. Why couldn't you have been a witch?" 

"So true Ira, so true. You've been nothing but a disappointment Willow. We asked you here so we could get this over with, and move on with our lives." 

Willow blinked, yet again. She could feel anger and hate building up inside her. Her eyes and hair quickly darkened into black, with veins showing through her skin. Her shoes, once blue, turned black. Her long jean skirt, blue also, was now black. Her fuzzy pink shirt? Black. Crotchless panties? That's right, black. Willow was pissed.

"Listen up bitches! I'm the most powerful witch there is! I don't need a stupid wand to do magicks!" She walked over to her parents and pulled them up. "Maybe if you ever talked to me you'd know already!" Energy cracked around her, and she began to shoot green lasers out of her fingers, smashing everything in sight. "How dare you say I was a disappointment? How dare you? You…you… POOPHEADS!"

Sheila was trying to inch away from her insane daughter. "Willow, baby, please! We didn't know! I'm sorry! But, but you ARE a witch! That's so wonderful! I'm so proud of you! And you're so powerful! Well, that'll show those stupid cows in Hogsmeade."

Ira nodded his head vigorously in agreement. 

"Proud of me? What?" Willow was flabbergasted. Her anger drained away, leaving her red headed and colorful again. Except for the crotchless panties, as they had been black to begin with.

Ira sighed with relief and said, "Now that we know what you really are, we can be a family again!"

Willow snorted and backed away. "You guys are the biggest losers! As if I want anything to do with you!" She turned and stormed out of the door and out of her "parents'" lives forever.

Once out on the street, Willow tried to calm down and go over what her parents had just told her. 

One: She was adopted.

Two: Her parents were British, and she probably was too.

Three: There was a magical community in England, other than the coven that she had gone to in order to learn… control… and, uh…

"Darn!" exclaimed Willow. "I really shouldn't have lost my temper like that. Or abused my incredible amount of power."

Then she shrugged and teleported herself to England in order to begin her search for her real parents.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although the Leaky Cauldron housed one of the main doorways between the muggle world and the wizarding world, it was not the classiest of joints. Calling it seedy would be going to far, but certainly on most nights one might say it was rather dank and badly lit. Tonight, however, the pub had been set aglow by an extremely unusual source. 

There were redheads at a table. There were redheads at the bar. There were redheads leaning against the banister of the stairs. There was even a redhead coming out of the bathroom. The Weasley's were out in full force, and the gathering of so many redheads in one place had the effect of casting a warming red glow on the room.

All of them kept glancing nervously towards the door.

"Shouldn't she be here by now?" asked Ron from his position at the bar. 

At that moment the door opened and a slim woman with a shock of bright red hair walked in.

"Oh!" exclaimed Molly, jumping up from the table. At that somewhat unclear command, the flock of Weasley's converged upon the girl.

There were general exclamations of, "oh, my baby!" and "welcome home," and the girl was soon hidden from view under the madding crowd.

"Oy!" came a cry from the back of the pub. "Mind getting off my girlfriend?" 

A burly young man strode up and began pulling redheads away until he reached the center.

"You all right, Melinda?" he asked.

"I… I think so. I'm just a bit confused."

She wasn't the only one.

"You're not our missing sister?" asked Charlie, scratching his head.

"Um… no."

"Terribly sorry about that," said Arthur, making a vain attempt to salvage the situation. "It's the hair, you see."

Melinda touched her hair self-consciously.

"Number 44—Ruby red. It's a new color for me. I quite liked it, but now I think I'll be going blond again."

With that she and the young man walked out of the pub. The Weasley's each went back to their original places somewhat sheepishly.

Only moments later, another redhead walked into the pub. This time Dumbledore followed her in, and the Weasley's had no doubt that this was the missing sibling they had been waiting for. This time they approached more cautiously.

"Oh, my baby," exclaimed Molly.

"Welcome home," said the rest of the clan.

"Um… hey," said Willow awkwardly. "I'm Willow." 

After a few tentative hugs, the group headed to a backroom they had reserved and sat around a massive table.

Although the room was in general chaos, with everyone wanting to speak at the same time, the story finally came out.

The Weasley's told Willow about how, when she was just a baby, she had been stolen out of the pram that she and her twin, Percy, shared. They had searched high and low and gone to every authority they could, both magical and muggle, to no avail.

In turn, Willow explained how her parents had revealed her adopted status, and how she had begun her search at a regular police station in London, who had then directed her to Dumbledore. She chose to leave out the part about destroying her adoptive parents' stuff.

"We never gave up hope," Molly told her. "Even though we never talked about you to each other or anyone else, we always knew you'd find your way back someday."

And inside the Leaky Cauldron, the red light glowed just a little bit brighter. 


	3. Chance Encounters and Drunk Sex

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss, Harry Potter belongs to JK.

AN: It's alive! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.

Crossing Over

Chapter Three: Chance Encounters and Drunk Sex

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__

Well lately I've been thinkin' 

about some good home cookin', 

just like that I haven't eaten' 

in the longest time. 

Now I like potato chips, 

now please don't get me wrong. 

But I haven't tasted mama's rhubarb pie in so very long. 

Rhubarb pie, in the summer. 

Rhubarb pie, made by my mother. 

Nothing better in the winter, 

than rhubarb pie after dinner. 

Twinkies may be better, 

than a hole in the sweater, 

and a hole in the sweater, 

beats a poke in the eye. 

If I had my choice, 

I'd leave this gas station store. 

And then I'd travel back in time, 

and I'd sit down and have some more.

[Chorus] 

Looking at the picture, 

in the Sunday paper, 

of the politician, he's talkin' to the press. 

He looks like he's been eating lemons all his life.

****

Five Iron Frenzy

"Rhubarb Pie"

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Eye patches are itchy. That's a little known fact in the two-eye-world. A world to which Xander Harris was unfortunately no longer a part of. He stuck his finger behind the patch to start scratching. _Damn! Right through the socket again! I'm going to poke right through to my brain one of these days!_ Thinking that poking his brain was funny, Xander started laughing. If someone else had heard his thoughts, and saw his reaction, they would be excused for thinking he had already hit his brain. Repeatedly.

Lost in his thoughts, and laughter, it took several shoves and jostles to make Xander realize he was standing on the sidewalk of a busy London street. He quickly ducked into a nearby pub to avoid being trampled. 

The pub was a dark, dingy sort of place, one that he felt pretty comfortable in. He sat down at the bar and waited for the bartender, who looked to be in a heated discussion with an elderly man. Shrugging, Xander thought back to what had lead to him being in Gilesland, home of tweed, rain, and stuffy Brits.

Xander had originally left the country in order to get away from the squealing girls at Slayer headquarters. There's only so many pillow fights you can witness before it loses its glamour. Eventually the screaming, the fighting, the wicked hard punches, they get to you. Buffy was totally useless. Now that she had no big bad to fight, she was trying to boss everyone around in normal, daily life. The day before he'd left Los Angeles, she'd commanded him to make her bed, then later in the day, she tried to get him to seduce one of the younger slayers. She'd been suspicious of her (the girl, Anna, had made the costly mistake of borrowing Buffy's hairdryer without permission) and she wanted Xander to get close to her to so he could find her evil plans for world domination. When Xander declined the offer (the girl was 15, even Xander has standards), Buffy got a scary gleam in her eye and he figured it would be a good time for a vacation. 

Seeing as how the only language Xander could speak was English, and even that not very well, he had narrowed down his choices of countries to visit quite significantly. Canada was ruled out quickly, because he figured it would be freezing (it was September, he really must be poking his brain), so the only other option was England (these two being the only two English speaking countries he could think of). 

As he sat at the bar, he noticed a woman with spiky pink hair glancing at him. She was pretty in the way that she was a woman and he was Xander. He casually got up and moved to the stool next to her. She smiled at him.

"Wotcher, mate," she said.

Xander was startled.

"You know Giles?"

The woman frowned.

"What?"

"What?"

The two looked at each other for a minute. Xander replayed the conversation in his head, and decided that 'wotcher' must be British for sit down.

He sat next to the woman and gave her his best smile.

"Come here often?"

A few hours and a few dozen drinks later, Xander was no closer to establishing what 'wotcher' meant. The woman, whose name was Tonks, had used it to greet people, to get drinks, and as a sort of swear word. A few drinks after that, Xander forgot why he ever cared. Instead, he and Tonks started singing a rousing rendition of "What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor," that led to a bar fight with a group of drunken sailors. This led to all of them being expelled from the pub. 

Once outside, Xander and Tonks made peace with the sailors, who went on their merry way.

"I'll walk you home," slurred Xander.

"Tha's okay," replied Tonks. "I can just ap—app… poof! my way home."

Xander frowned.

"That doesn't seem like a thing to do when you're drunk."

Tonks considered this for a moment, nearly falling off the pavement and into the street.

"You're right. I should use a broomstick."

"Or I could call you a cab," said Xander, trying to figure out what was wrong with this conversation.

"Or you could call me Nymphadora," she giggled, sidling up to him in an attempt at a seductive manner.

"Are those the people who like to have sex?" asked Xander.

"What?" screeched Tonks. Then she thought about it. "Oh, you mean nymphomaniac."

"Right," he agreed. "I used to date a girl like that. She loved sex…" Xander sat down heavily on the ground. "She's dead now," he continued, tears welling up in his eye.

"I'm so sorry," exclaimed Tonks, staggering over to sit next to him. "Was it… too much sex?"

"No… can that kill you?"

Tonks shrugged.

"I think so, sometimes."

"Wanna find out?" inquired Xander hopefully.

The next morning, Xander woke up blind.

"Oh my god, I'm blind!" he exclaimed, trying to jump out of bed, but getting tangled up in the sheets instead.

"Relax," said a soothing female voice. "You've got the patch over the wrong eye."

He felt someone touching his face, and then he could see again. He was looking at a fairly pretty young woman with an uncertain smile on her face.

"Oh, hey," he said. "Uh… Nymph-something, right?"

"Actually, I'd rather you call me Tonks."

__

Call you a cab… Xander tried to piece together the events that led to this moment, but could only come up with vague recollections.

"It was good, right?" asked Xander.

Tonks scratched her head.

"I think so," she said.

She hesitated a moment.

"Did I say anything… strange last night?"

Xander thought again. _Drunken Sailor… cab… broomstick… Anya… hotel… take me, you sexy pirate…blind… _ wait a minute.

"Broomstick?" asked Xander. "Are you a witch?"

"You know about witches and wizards?" asked Tonks, surprised.

Xander shrugged.

"A little, I guess. I know more about vampires and demons, though."

The two continued to talk, each revealing more about their secrets lives than they probably should have. Xander learned about the existence of the wizarding world and about her metamorphmagus status. For her part, Tonks got a cliffnotes version of Xander's time on the Hellmouth, and about the Slayer.

"Well, I guess that's everything," said Tonks, wondering why she'd told him as much as she had. She had always been a sucker for a pretty face and a bad pick up line.

"Actually," said Xander, "I have one more question. What does 'wotcher' mean?"


End file.
